


Rainy Days and Mondays (Never Get Me Down)

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6894037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Rhett and Link meet as single guys in LA. In the rain. Rhett shares his umbrella. This is pure, unmitigated, tropey fluff. You're welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rainy Days and Mondays (Never Get Me Down)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucydoll2096](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lucydoll2096).



> My bby cousin (who is officially no longer a bby, what even the hell) gave me the idea for this AU like a month ago, and it took me so long to write it that the timing made it perfect for a birthday present for her. So - happy birthday, sweetheart! I love you and I hope this is everything you wanted.
> 
> (Also huge thanks to the squad as always for the betas and encouragement!)

It wasn't supposed to rain until later today. That's definitely what the forecast had said. _Cloudy, mid-70s, with rain rolling in around 2 pm and lasting for the rest of the evening._ It’s only 9:30 in the morning. This shouldn't be happening. 

Link looks up at the sky despairingly, wincing as a fat droplet of rain hits his glasses, turning the world around him blurry and soft. Even his best glare seems to be no match for the clouds, which pelt his upturned face with several more heavy drops, as if to say _listen buddy, you're not in charge here._

He’s halfway between home and Starbucks, and there’s a bus stop only a few feet away. Making a split-second decision, Link decides not to turn around and head home, and begins digging in his pocket for his phone to check the time of the next bus. His phone, he quickly realizes, isn’t in his pocket.

Rain drips steadily onto his head, taunting him. Burying his face in his hands, Link lets out a yell of frustration that turns into a high shriek of surprise when he hears a chuckle from behind him.

“Hey, where you headed?” The voice is warm and low and reminds Link a little of home. When he turns, he’s faced with a view of a guy’s jacket. This guy is _tall_. Link realizes belatedly that the rain is no longer attacking him, due to the reach of the stranger’s large umbrella, which he’s kindly holding over Link’s head.

Leaning his head back to see his savior’s face, Link finds himself looking into green-grey eyes, ringed with long eyelashes and bracketed by soft crow’s feet; large eyes, expressive and kind. The man has upswept, dirty-blond hair that adds at least three inches to his height—as though he needs to be any taller, Link thinks—and a fluffy beard that makes him look like a slightly unkempt lumberjack. The plaid shirt that Link can see in the vee where his jacket is unzipped only adds to the effect.

He’s stunning. Link’s mouth goes dry.

The man looks at Link expectantly, one dark eyebrow raised, and Link realizes that he’d been asked a question, and that instead of answering he’s been staring for—who knows how long. Cursing himself internally, Link casts back to the question the man had asked.

“Star-Starbucks,” he answers, coughing when his voice comes out as a humiliating squeak at first. “Couple blocks away.”

The stranger brightens, a smile rounding the apples of his cheeks, making the corners of his eyes crinkle even more. “Me too, brother! You wanna walk together?”

Link blinks, bemused. Since he’d moved to LA six months ago he’s found the people kind, certainly; polite, always ready to help; but it’s nothing like the warmth and familiarity he remembered from back home. Part of it was the move from a small rural town to a sprawling metropolis, from knowing everyone to not knowing a single soul, but Link couldn’t help feeling like part of it was a fundamental difference between the south and the west coast, community versus individuality, or— _something_.

This stranger, though—this stranger who’s feeling less and less like a stranger with every passing minute, even though Link still doesn’t know his name—this stranger feels very much like the warm acceptance of walking into the church potluck on a Saturday afternoon, friends and neighbors smiling and welcoming him in. This man feels like home.

Link shakes himself mentally, embarrassed at his thoughts. Here’s someone who’s just being kind, doing what any decent human being would do, and just because he’s handsome and has a hint of an accent Link’s falling head over heels for him like the gesture means anything at all. _Get it together, Neal_ , he scolds himself.

“If you don’t mind, man, that’d be great,” Link answers, gesturing to his laptop bag. “This thing is supposed to be water-resistant but I really don’t wanna test it and find out Amazon lied to me.”

The big man laughs. “Let’s go, then.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Rhett, by the way. Rhett McLaughlin.”

Link takes the hand, marveling at how much bigger it is than his, and shakes it. “Link Neal. Nice to meetcha, Rhett.”

The walk is uneventful, quiet in a way that should feel uncomfortable but isn’t, just the sound of the patter of the rain on the big umbrella above them and the _whoosh_ of cars rushing past. Link is almost sorry when the big green sign looms into view. The man— _Rhett_ , Link corrects himself—holds the door open for Link, gesturing for him to enter, then shakes as much water as he can off his umbrella before following him in.

The warmth of the coffee shop after the chill in the air makes Link’s glasses fog up, temporarily blinding him for the second time that morning. He pulls them off, unzipping his jacket to get to his thankfully dry t-shirt underneath. Giving them a cursory wipe, he replaces them on his face, then pushes his damp hair off his forehead. Turning to Rhett, he finds the other man staring at him with his mouth slightly open, looking dazed.

“You okay, man?” Link asks, brow furrowing in concern. Rhett blinks, then grins sheepishly, cheeks rounding up in that same adorable way. Rubbing a big palm— _dang, those hands are huge_ , Link thinks, a twist of heat in his gut, and _gosh_ he has to knock this off before he gets himself into trouble—over his beard, Rhett nods.

“Fine, you just—uh, you look different with your glasses off.” Small, even white teeth show under his neatly-trimmed mustache, and Link could swear he sees a blush high on those cheeks. There’s a tension that Link doesn’t know what to do with, so he falls back on old habits, playing off his nerves with a stupid comment.

“Hey, let me at least buy you a drink, you saved me from drowning.” Link grins up at Rhett, gratified when Rhett chuckles.

“You don’t have to—” Rhett begins to protest, but Link cuts him off.

“I know I don’t _have_ to, I want to. You didn’t have to share your umbrella with me, either, but you did. That ain’t somethin’ you see every day.” When Link sees Rhett hesitating, he huffs a breath of air upwards, pushing his bangs off his forehead where they’ve drifted downwards again. “Just lemme buy you a drink, bo.”

The endearment slips out before Link knows what he’s saying, and he feels his whole face heat up. He hasn’t called anyone that in ages, certainly not since he moved out here. It’s not a common term anywhere other than down East, easily misconstrued, and Link feels like a colossal fool. “Uh—” he babbles, trying to backtrack, attempting to explain, “it’s just—it ain’t—that’s just somethin’ back home we used to—”

“—call friends,” Rhett finishes, grinning wide. “I know. Haven’t heard it in forever, though. Been out here too long.”

Link stares incredulously, slack-jawed for a moment before he feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Okay, now I _gotta_ buy you a drink. I _knew_ you were from—where you from?”

Rhett laughs, putting his wallet away as they shuffle forward in line. “Fine, fine. And Georgia. Macon, originally. Moved out here about a year ago, for this job that—well, didn’t work out.” A look of annoyance passes over his face, gone a split second later. “And you’re from…” Rhett tilts his head, narrowing his eyes and looking Link up and down. “You’re from North Carolina.”

Link gapes. This has been the strangest morning he’s ever had and he’s only been awake for a few hours. “Okay, I _know_ I still got an accent, more’n you, but how on earth did you—”

There’s a beat where Rhett’s face stays grave and still, but then his eyes twinkle with mirth as he covers his mouth, muffling a laugh that Link would pay real money to hear loud and full. “Your bag, brother.”

Link looks down at his new laptop bag, emblazoned with the NC State logo, and can feel the tips of his ears heating up. He looks back up at Rhett, trying and failing to keep a glare on his face. Rhett lets a bark of a laugh out from behind his hand, and Link can’t help himself, laughing along with him.

“What am I buying you, jerk?” he asks Rhett, running his fingers over the blocky, embroidered ‘S’ on the bag, feeling foolish and not really minding all that much.

“First bo and now jerk—you always run hot and cold like that? You’d be a terrible date, man,” Rhett says, turning towards the menu with a laugh and a shake of his head, leaving Link to stare at the back of his head in shock. _Date_?

Link’s still dazed when they make it to the counter, and he waves absently at Rhett when the barista asks what they’d like, letting the other man order first while he puts his brain back together. _Date_? But that would mean—and what are the odds that—

“And for you?” the barista asks, snapping him out of his thoughts. She’s looking at him like it might not be the first time she’s asked, and when he slides a glance over to Rhett, he sees that Rhett’s trying—poorly—to conceal a grin. _Damn it._

“Uh, triple grande white mocha with extra whip, please,” Link answers, rattling off his comfort order—not his usual, but the one he treats himself to when he’s feeling out of sorts. Today merits it. He feels like his whole world’s been turned upside-down already, and it’s not even noon yet.

He pays, dropping the change into the tip jar, and goes to join Rhett at the hand-off plane. The guy is grinning at him like Link’s the most amusing thing he’s ever seen.

“What’s so funny?” Honestly, Link really wants to be annoyed, but once again, he can’t find it in himself to do anything other than grin back. Rhett’s smile is dangerously infectious.

“Got quite a sweet tooth there, son,” Rhett chuckles. “Extra whip cream? You sound like my nephew.” The barista calls out Link’s name, pushing two drinks across the counter. Rhett leans in to grab his cup, continuing his gentle ribbing as he moves.

“My nephew is _six_ , by the wa—” Rhett turns, drink in hand, but cuts himself off abruptly when Link moves to take his own drink from the counter behind him. The simultaneous motions bring them close together, torsos nearly touching, close enough that Link can smell the faint sandalwood scent of Rhett’s cologne.

Link freezes, arm outstretched, gripping the cup like a lifeline, heart beating double time in his chest. This close, he’s sure Rhett can feel it, but Rhett doesn’t mention it, doesn’t say anything at all—he just stares down at Link, wide-eyed and silent.

Link doesn’t know how long they stay that way, only that they both jump and break apart guiltily when the barista calls out somebody else’s order from behind them, the sound shockingly loud even over the rush of blood in his ears.

Rhett lets out a snort that breaks the tension, and suddenly they’re both laughing like little kids.

Link gestures to the cafe with his free hand when the laughter finally dies off, his heart still racing. “We should probably—”

“Mmm,” Rhett responds, taking a sip of his latte, eyes closing in pleasure. Link seizes the opportunity to observe Rhett openly, taking in the honey color of his long eyelashes fanned out against his cheek, the soft pink of the lip that peeks out from under his mustache.

It’s only a moment, and then Rhett opens his eyes again, and Link hurriedly diverts his gaze. Rhett scans the cafe then quirks an eyebrow. “Pretty crowded.”

Link glances around. It’s true—this Starbucks is usually pretty busy, and this morning it’s not only full of people working on laptops, but also patrons seeking refuge from the rain. Link’s heart sinks when he sees that every table is occupied. He’d really wanted to get at least some work done today, although he’s so distracted now that he doubts he’d be able to do anything productive even if he could find somewhere to sit. Still, he should try.

“What d’you wanna—” he starts, but Rhett cuts him off, smacking him on the arm excitedly. “Ow!”

“Sorry, man, but look!” Rhett answers blithely, not looking sorry at all. He points to a table in the far corner where a woman is packing up her stroller, settling a little girl with blonde fluff for hair into the seat and buckling her in. Rhett’s halfway across the cafe by the time she shrugs on her coat. Link snorts and follows behind him.

“You don’t mind sharing, do you?” Rhett asks as he sets his drink down, head tilted in a way that Link steadfastly refuses to allow himself to describe as _puppyish_. Link looks at the table. It’s small and round, barely enough room for one person to work, let alone two.

Link grins, putting his drink down next to Rhett’s. “Not at all.”

They both pull out laptops, Link’s Macbook Air looking tiny next to Rhett’s sturdier Macbook Pro, and for a while there’s nothing but the gentle clack of their keyboards and the background chatter of the busy cafe. Link is struck anew by how _easy_ this is, being here with Rhett, working across from him like it’s something they’re used to doing, like it’s part of their daily routine. Talking to people comes easily to Link, but having a connection with them is something else entirely, and he feels a pull to the other man so strong it’s like there’s a physical tether between them. It’s the strangest feeling he’s ever had.

He comes to the conclusion that he’s not going to get much done when he realizes he’s been reading the same sentence for the past five minutes and still has no idea what it says. Popping the lid off his drink, he takes a long sip then sets it down, furrowing his brow as he tries to focus on the words in front of him.

Not a second later he’s distracted again, though—this time by gentle fingers tipping his chin up, and Rhett’s thumb running over his upper lip in a gesture so shockingly intimate Link can feel his whole body heating up.

He’s sure he looks stunned, and when he looks at Rhett the other man seems surprised at himself. Drawing back his hand, Rhett shows Link the smear of white on his thumb.

“You—whipped cream, you had. Uh. There was whipped cream,” Rhett stutters. His whole face is pink. Link nods mutely. “I got it though.”

Link blinks. “Thanks,” he replies, and it comes out as a croak. He clears his throat. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Rhett answers weakly. “I should, I—gonna go wash my hands, don’t wanna get my computer all sticky, I’m—”

He pushes back his seat in a rush, long limbs unfolding rapidly as he scrambles to get to the washroom on the other side of the cafe. Link watches him go, dazed, and runs his own thumb over his upper lip, a pale imitation of the electric touch he’d felt just a moment ago.

Things may be different in LA, a little more casual than down East, but Link knows that’s not usual behavior for two men who’ve just met, no matter where in the world they are. And yet he’s not uncomfortable, not in the least.

His nerves are sparking and his heart is racing but it’s not fear or anxiety, it’s excitement. He’s known Rhett for an hour and a half and his touch feels more right than anything else he’s ever felt. Link’s never believed in fate before, scoffed at the very idea, but as he watches Rhett emerge from the washroom, body moving with a ridiculous grace for someone so large, he thinks he may have been wrong all along.

Neither man mentions the interaction when Rhett comes back, both making a show of settling back into their work with determination, but Link can’t help glancing over the top of his laptop every so often to sneak a peek at Rhett. Twice, he catches Rhett already looking at him, Rhett’s gaze darting back down to the keyboard when their eyes lock.

The third time Link catches him looking, after Rhett looks back down, cheeks flushed, Link knocks Rhett’s knee under the table. Rhett’s eyes shoot back up, that eyebrow quirking again.

“Sorry, just shifting around,” Link says, trying his best to look innocent. He’s not sure he pulls it off.

“Mmm,” is all Rhett says.

Ten minutes later he feels Rhett’s foot brush up against his, a soft slow slide that can’t be anything but intentional. When he looks up, Rhett just blinks at him, face a guileless mask that doesn’t fool Link for one second.

Link grins and shakes his head, and hears Rhett snort under his breath.

Slowly but surely, the rain lessens outside as they work, the sun streaming into the cafe windows, turning Rhett’s hair from dirty-blond into a soft, warm bronze. Link didn’t think it was possible for the man to look _more_ handsome but apparently, Rhett McLaughlin is full of surprises. 

Suddenly, Rhett whispers a curse, startling Link out of his reverie. He shuts his laptop and rubs a hand over his face, sighing. “I can’t believe it’s so late—I’m lookin’ in on my buddy’s dog while he’s away and I was supposed to feed her at noon. Poor thing’s probably starving.”

Link looks at the clock on his computer, shocked when he sees that it’s already 1:30. There’s no way they’ve been sitting here, working—or pretending to work and playing footsie, if he’s being honest with himself—for nearly three hours already. And yet, the numbers don’t lie.

“Guess I should be heading home too,” Link says, reluctantly. He packs up his laptop at a snail’s pace, trying to postpone actually having to say goodbye for as long as possible.

“Yeah,” Rhett murmurs. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” He looks so sad, and Link’s heart swells. He’s not a risk-taker, not usually, but this—this doesn’t even feel like a risk. This feels like serendipity.

There’s something between them. He’s not imagining things, and he’s not going to let this opportunity get away. This isn’t just some random hookup. This is something more. _What_ , Link isn’t sure, but he damn well wants to find out.

Link holds up a finger and digs in his bag for a pen. Glancing around, he grabs a napkin and scribbles something down, then hands it to Rhett. “I’d really like that. You should—text me or something.”

Rhett looks down at the napkin in his hand, then back up at Link, cheeks rounded and high. “Yeah, Link, I will.”

They part ways outside the entrance, Rhett heading the opposite direction with a smile and a wave. Link grins and waves back, watching him go, tall and golden, until he rounds the corner a block down and disappears from view.

When Link gets back home, his phone is flashing with an alert that he’s missed five messages. Four are from his mom, a rambling update about the goats she and her husband are keeping, each one signed with “love, mom.” He smiles fondly.

The fifth is from a number he doesn’t recognize, but the message makes his smile grow until his cheeks hurt from it.

_This is Rhett. Maybe we could meet up again tomorrow? For some reason I didn’t get a lot of work done today._

Link thinks for a moment, not wanting to seem too eager, but then decides _to hell with it_ and starts typing.

_That sounds good, but how about dinner tonight?_

He presses ‘send’, watching as the three little dots show up almost immediately. He holds his breath, waiting for Rhett’s reply.

_You like BBQ?_

He laughs out loud.

_You know it, bo._

Link looks out the window. There are clouds brewing again on the horizon, the bout of sunshine nothing but a brief respite from the unexpected rain of the morning and the promised storms of the afternoon. In his hand, the phone buzzes again.

_Gimme your address, I’ll pick you up at 7._

The rain can come, as far as Link’s concerned. He has all the sunshine he needs.


End file.
